Living on Borrowed Time
by Maddiecake
Summary: Twenty years later, Ponyboy is given the chance to change everything, but with this comes a grave decision and more grief than he planned.
1. Chapter 1

_Let it be known that JRC is on a long hiatus until I get some more muse for it. This story is one I'm rather proud of although I'm not sure many people will read it… that seems to happen a lot._

_But it is based on something I'm writing as an original piece of fiction as well so I know what I'm doing for the most part. This takes place twenty years after the book just for convenience, Sodapop is dead as are Johnny and Dally, there are children and I'm not mentioning them quite as much as I might if I wanted to focus on them._

_That being said I don't own anyone except the children._

Was God playing some horrible trick when they got the notice that Sodapop Patrick Curtis had died on the anniversary of the death of Jonathan Robert Cade and Dallas Anthony Winston? Anyone who valued religion would scoff at the idea but after everything he had been through he was beginning to doubt.

And his faith had been dwindling for far too long, so it didn't matter what those churchgoers thought, anyway. God had cheated them and he was wishing He would loosen up for once, stop playing games with their heads and creating this seemingly never-ending cycle of grief.

Ponyboy Michael Curtis set down the pencil and dropped his head onto the mahogany desk, wincing as his brain rattled in his skull and he felt the beginnings of a headache. His glasses slipped down his nose before dropping off completely save for the right side which was trapped by the arm that he slipped beneath his cranium to avoid getting any oil or sweat from his forehead onto the paper.

Two weeks he had to write this article and all he could come up with was a worthless piece about the dangers of tanning beds, and that was a pathetic excuse for groundbreaking news if he had ever seen one. In fact, half of his "information" was taken from books of urban legends.

However, what really put the icing on the cake was the fact that it was _that_ time of year again. The time when he felt most depressed, lost and completely out of touch with everyone. Over the years they had all drifted apart and he would give anything to bring them back together again. _But that's impossible,_ he reminded himself, his thoughts bitter. There would _be_ no reunion if Johnny, Dallas and Sodapop remained deceased, and there was absolutely no way to bring them back to life.

The anniversary always brought around these thoughts.

The pattering of tiny feet reached his ears and he turned around, the rolling chair spinning with him across the wooden floors to face his daughter, who was clinging to the doorframe as if her life depended on it.

"Hey Audrey."

His five year old seemed put off by his lack of enthusiasm but none the less scampered into the room and climbed upon her father's lap, looking at him with familiar green-gray eyes set in a face that was so much like her mother's. "Mama says lunch is ready," she announced, wrapping her arms around him as much as she could. "But," Audrey took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, "you don't hafta go if you don't wanna."

The corners of his mouth twitched, curving upward in a small smile as he listened to his daughter talk about the importance of him eating lunch with them (mostly so that he could defend her when she refused to eat whatever vegetable came with the meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup).

When he returned from his thoughts he realized that Audrey was staring at him expectantly. He pushed a few strands of her blonde hair out of her face and gently nudged her so that she slid off his lap and landed on the floor with a light _thud_. "I'll be down in a minute," he assured her and when she looked doubtful he sighed and held out a hand, pinky extended. "Pinky swear."

Childish as it may have been, Audrey scampered out of the room and he could hear her yelling down the stairs for her mother to make another sandwich because he would, in fact, be dining with them.

Running a hand through his hair (it was already beginning to thin, at _thirty four_ he was going bald while Darry still had a full head of hair at forty one. What was the world coming to?) he took a moment to grieve over the loss of what had once been one of his best features before he stood up and exited the room.

On his journey down the stairs he was apprehended by yet another one of his children, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her clear blue eyes scornful as she took in her father's disheveled appearance. Wrinkling her nose, she let out a soft 'hmph' and stomped up the stairs.

It was Terra, Genevieve, Bobbi, Esmeralda… whatever his twelve year old was calling herself lately (her real name was Iris but she refused to go by something so 'weird' and as a result changed her name every couple of weeks) and her rude habits that made him pause, smell his shirt and frown. Well he _had_ been up for a while… hadn't had time to shower.

"… Iris?" He was hoping she wasn't in another one of her moods. It always resulted in hours of the phone lines being tied, and eventually lead to slamming doors and cries of 'you hate me' or 'I wish I was never born'. As much as Ponyboy hated to admit it, he could see a bit of himself in her, mostly her knack for exaggeration to the point where it was almost comical.

"_It's Erin,_" she yelled, her voice floating down to him from her room.

Ponyboy rolled his eyes and took a few steps back up the stairs. "Are you eating with us?"

"_Why don't you ask _her_? She's the one ruining everything_."

"Don't talk about your mother like that," he yelled back, using a voice he hoped said 'I'm your authority figure now go downstairs and eat'. Luckily, he heard Iris' door open and she stomped back down the stairs, mumbling under her breath about injustice and the like, continuing even as she sat down at the table.

_Living on Borrowed Time_

Perhaps putting aside his article had been a bad idea after all. Ponyboy sat at the desk once more, pencil poised above the paper in an attempt to create _some_ sort of brainstorm that could result in a decent article. This wasn't even his primary job, but his regular job (an English teacher at Will Rogers High) didn't pay quite as much as he liked, and he viewed his journalism career as more of his 'calling' than teaching a bunch of glassy-eyed students that could hardly bother reading what was assigned to them.

Shoving his glasses back up his nose he glanced at the clock, the red letters blurring for a moment until his eyes focused and he read _12:21_. The radio had been turned off long ago by Maureen, who insisted that he would wake up Audrey and that he needed to come to bed, anyway.

"In a minute."

Well that minute had turned into a half an hour, which in turn had jumped to an hour which had _then_ jumped right up to three hours, and there he was in that same position at the desk. He was tempted to reach up and pull his hair out, out of pure frustration and just to get the balding over with. Better sooner than later, Maureen always said.

Looking at the page filled with small doodles and thoughts that had been swimming around in his head he set down the pencil again and took off his glasses to wipe them off on his shirt. Maybe a walk would give him an idea. Besides, Shep needed a walk and he had been clawing at the back door since around eleven thirty.

Pushing back his chair with finality he strode out of his office and down the stairs, toward the back door where the cocker spaniel lay curled up, his eyes open and staring fixedly at the door as if it would open for him by magic.

"Shep," he cooed, bending down to scratch the top of the dog's head. Shep's stump of a tail hit the floor several times before he jumped up and placed his front two paws on Ponyboy's legs, stretching before falling back on all fours. "Wanna go for walks?" Despite his best efforts, he was never able to stop using that baby voice around the dog. It never suited him and made him feel stupid to be talking to a perfectly intelligent animal that way. "Yeah? Walks?"

The dog seemed to perk up at the word and his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he searched for the red leash that would make the promise final. Sure enough, Ponyboy took the leash off of the hook by the back door and hooked it to Shep's collar before leading him through the kitchen and out the front door.

It was a clear night, stars dotting the sky and the moon shining bright. The rest of the neighborhood was asleep and the lovely silence was broken only by the occasional barking dog that had been put out in attempts by the owner at getting a good night's sleep. Shep would often bark back, snarling and then sneezing as his ears would get into his face which resulted in hair in his mouth.

Ponyboy was just about to turn around and go home when he spotted something, a small stand set up at the building site of one of the new houses. It was brightly lit, but not by electricity. Instead hundreds of candles were burning, the flames moving, growing and shrinking and casting an eerie light. He frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he tentatively approached the booth. For once in his life, Shep remained silent.

"Hello."

The voice was soft, high and definitely that of a female. He jumped, having not seen her until she had stepped out of the shadows. The outfit she wore was strange, a colour he wasn't able to place and her black hair in a long braid down her back. Her smile was polite, curious as she picked up a blue candle and then placed it back carefully. "Are you seeking help?"

"… uh… not really…"

The woman looked up sharply, her expression one of shock. "Well you must be if you are here." At his blank look she sighed and leaned on the counter, the casual stance looking strange with her otherwise elegant appearance. "What is your name?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm really not uh… looking for anything."

She sighed and held out a dark hand. "Aishwarya. Now you may tell me your's."

"Really, I don--"

"If you did not wish to seek help, you would not have approached the booth," Aishwarya stated matter-of-factly. "Now, tell me your name."

Feeling slightly intimidated by this strange woman he took her hand and shook it once. "Ponyboy."

Immediately her expression turned to one of intrigue. "_You_ are Ponyboy?"

"Yes?"

There was a flurry of movement as Aishwarya jumped back and then sped around the booth, picking out a seemingly random collection of candles, all different colours and sizes, some lit and some not. "You wish to change something?"

"What?" He raised an eyebrow and took another step toward the booth.

"You feel regret, you wish to change something," Aishwarya picked up a sea green candle, the wick burnt but not lit, and sniffed it before putting it amongst the others, "you cannot change it without one other taking the place… there will _always_ be one other."

Ponyboy was completely lost, but he found himself nodding.

Taking a crimson candle off one of the higher shelves she took a moment to count them and then approached the front of the booth again. "Time is a dangerous thing," she said seriously as she handed him the candles. "Do not go into it without knowing what it is you desire."

With that she smiled, the expression almost sympathetic as she threw down a large board that blocked the inside of the booth from view.

For a long time Ponyboy merely stood and stared, his mouth open and Shep gnawing on his shoe. "… what?" For the first time he looked at the candles in his arms, four lit and three with burnt wicks that had gone out.

Sea green, a mix of orange, yellow and pink, light blue, crimson, silver, brown and an ivory colour.

There were seven.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'd like to thank my four reviewers, and hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter as well. It won't be _as_ long but my chapters for this won't be as short as the ones for JRC (I hope). And to correct something last time, the children, wives, and Aishwarya all belong to me._

Ponyboy slipped in through the front door just as the clock hit 2:30. Time had a fluid quality to him, and he wouldn't have believed that he could have been gone that long had his own watch said the same thing. He had been preoccupied with the candles, four of which were still burning brightly despite the breeze that had begun on his journey home and his own attempts to put them out for fear of burning himself.

When he unhooked Shep from his leash the Cocker Spaniel padded over to the back door and laid down on the mat, dropping his head onto the floor and yawning before falling asleep. Ponyboy stared at the dog, jealous of Shep's ability to fall asleep so quickly and easily while he was left to ponder what exactly those candles meant to him.

Setting them down on the kitchen table he picked up the silver one, seeing as it seemed one of the least dangerous because it wasn't lit. Tentatively he put it to his nose and sniffed, a small smile gracing his features as he did so. Cologne, chocolate cake and a strange hint of perfume, the sort that Maureen would wear when they were beginning to go out. When he had finished he set it back on the table and picked up the one with the blended colours, the orange, yellow and pink.

This smelled different, like rain, fall and smoke. It smelt of summer and even a little bit like the earth, a confusing blend of scents that under normal circumstances would make him turn away, disgusted, but it was oddly comforting. He set this down carefully, noting the swirl of the colours and wondering why none of the others were quite as colourful as this.

Last was brown. Ugly, considering the last two he had picked up, but when he sniffed it he was hit by a million different scents. Beer, cigarettes, gas, burgers, exhaust. Cheap perfume and sex were the underlying odors that made him wrinkle his nose in disgust and set the candle back amongst the others. Such a disgusting aroma, and yet he wasn't at all tempted to throw the candle in the trash and forget about it.

"Pony?"

He looked up from where he was staring at the newly acquired objects to see Maureen standing there, leaning in the doorway and rubbing her eyes. She wasn't making an effort to look beautiful, but he still found her attractive, even in that old pink bathrobe that she insisted on holding onto even though it was a good nine years older than Iris.

"What're you doing up, babe? I thought you were," Maureen yawned and stretched, "you were going to bed." Stepping into the kitchen she frowned, seeing his outfit. "Where'd you go?"

This was a familiar tune, making him think of the night a bit more than twenty years ago, when he had stayed out far too late with Johnny in the lot, looking at the stars, discussing their lives and the girls they had "picked up" at the drive in. They had drifted off, and Darry had snapped at him when he had gotten home at two in the morning. Everything had been blown out of proportion… and looking where it had ended up always made him feel more than a bit guilty.

If he hadn't stayed out, Johnny wouldn't have died. Dallas wouldn't have snapped and he wouldn't have robbed that convenience store, wouldn't have been gunned down under that streetlight (although something of the same nature was bound to happen sometime, Ponyboy would just rather not have been around to _see_ it).

"Hm?"

He was jerked out of his thoughts by Maureen's voice and he smiled at her. "Couldn't sleep… I thought a walk would work."

"And did it?" She was mocking him in a way, her tone playful despite the fact that she seemed about ready to fall asleep. "You don't _look_ ready to sleep."

Ponyboy shrugged, a teenager response to a question he didn't want to answer. "I guess not… I'll be up in a minute though, Mo… I promise--"

"Candles?"

Maureen was looking past him now, at the seven candles and seeing their strange assortment of colours, smelling the aromas wafting towards her as they burned but never actually _shrunk_. "You bought candles at two in the morning, Pony?"

"… yeah… I-I guess…"

She smiled at him, picking up the silver one and inspecting it. "Well they're pretty…" Slowly she bent forward, touching the wick to the burning wick of the sea green candle and pulling it away, watching the flame dance. Ponyboy felt the urge to blow it out, the urge to scream at her and tell her what she was doing was _wrong_ in so many ways that it was hardly a laughing matter. She had no _idea_ what she was doing, what force she was dealing with and what horrible things could happen.

As the world spun, Ponyboy's eyes widened in horror.

Neither did he.

_Living on Borrowed Time_

"Keith's coming over in a little while," she said casually as she inspected one of the pots in the sink. "Bringing Elizabeth… such a nice woman… why don't they ever have kids?"

Ponyboy looked up from where he sat at the table, frowning at his wife over his bowl of corn flakes. Two-Bit was coming over with… _Elizabeth_? His confusion was understandable, considering the last time he had spoken to Keith about anything of the sort he had divorced her and was currently paying child support for his four year old son, Andrew.

Maureen didn't seem to notice his silence as she scrubbed the pots, pans and plates that had piled up in the sink. Instead she just kept on working, scrubbing them and then putting them carelessly in the dishwasher.

"I think Jonathan's coming over as well…"

His blood ran cold and he felt the colour leave his face. Jonathan?

"… bringing Hazel, but I don't remember." She made a tutting sound as she put one of the finer china plates carefully into the lower rack. "You'd think that he'd learn not to try and raise a girl on his own but…"

"Wait," Ponyboy interrupted, and she turned to face him. "_Johnny_'s coming over?"

Her expression was one of confusion, although whether it was at the nickname or the fact that he didn't remember this, he couldn't be sure. "Well… you invited them…"

"But what about the fire? His broken back?"

At the mention of this her expression softened and she walked over to wrap her arms loosely around his shoulders in an embrace. "Babe, I thought I told you, he's doing fine. The doctors performed surgery, they fixed everything and he's walking again…"

The joy he was feeling was downplayed by the overall frustration at how confusing the situation was when it shouldn't have been that way at all. However, Maureen already seemed concerned that he had forgotten their meeting, and he chose not to speak up about it. "Great," he said at last, taking another bite of his cereal to occupy himself until the big meeting.

At ten thirty someone rang the doorbell.

Ponyboy was in the bedroom, his eyes closed, hands behind his head and his chest rising and falling steadily. His soft snores were the only noises breaking the silence of the room as he slept, his fatigue unexplainable to Maureen because apparently he had been going to bed at seven-thirty every single night.

"Johnny's here," she called up the stairs, making him think back to past birthday parties when he had been playing in some other part of the house and his mother had called for him to come greet the guests. He smiled at this, but didn't open his eyes until he heard Maureen's irritated sigh and she called him a second time. Aishwarya's words didn't even register in his mind as he descended the stairs to greet the friend he had wanted to see for so long. When he came to the first floor of the house, he wasn't quite able to see Johnny, who was blocked by the door that Maureen was still holding open.

Audrey was downstairs as well, talking animatedly with a girl a bit taller than her, thin with large dark eyes and black hair. She wasn't dressed up, but her hair was back with a red scrunchie and she was wearing overalls which clashed with Audrey's dress.

"Don't tell me you were sleeping again," Maureen's teasing made him smile, but he nodded. She turned back to Johnny who was still blocked by the door. "Right! Oh… c'mon inside. Didn't mean to leave you out there," she mumbled as she moved aside.

Ponyboy's stomach did several large flips, turns, and knotted itself all in that span of a few seconds as Jonathan Cade stepped into the room, turned, and smiled at him.


	3. Chapter 3

_I made a mistake in the last chapter... well... sort of. Johnny isn't the silver candle, just so you know.  
Nothing belongs to me except Aishwarya and the children... and the others you've never heard of; the title is all thanks to John Lennon. _

Conversation seemed to be a bit forced as the adults sat around the table with coffee and tried to find something to talk about. Johnny constantly glanced at the clock as if he was going to be late to something, but he had never mentioned anything, and Ponyboy supposed it could have just been to see how long they had been sitting in silence broken by soft "um"s and "... so"s that seemed to accentuate the awkward feeling.

"So what happened to Rebecca?" Maureen asked at last as she took a sip of her coffee which had, by now, grown cold and disgusting. "Are you still with her?"

Johnny cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at his coffee. Ponyboy couldn't help but feel jealous when he took in his friend's appearance. He had aged well... or better than _he_ had, anyway. A few seconds passed, in which the girls could be heard in the other room talking loudly and playing a game of make believe with the dolls Audrey had dragged out the minute the adults had gone into the kitchen.

"Well uh... she left for a uh... well... someone somewhere in Chicago," he replied slowly, looking embarrassed, as if this sort of thing happened quite a lot. Maureen looked taken aback by the news and she reached across the table to pat him lightly on the hand before pulling back as if remembering he really didn't like to have pity taken upon him (which explained his embarrassment in the first place).

Two-Bit (_Keith,_ Ponyboy kept reminding himself, _what grown man would want to be called Two-Bit?_) had yet to show up and that would surely bring some much-needed conversation, if not some sort of hilarity.

After some more awkward conversation the doorbell rang, and Maureen was the first to show her relief. "It's _Keith_," she exclaimed, jumping up and nearly knocking over her cup of coffee as she ran to the door and flung it open. From the kitchen Ponyboy could hear the greetings, and the sound of Elizabeth's voice as she and Maureen conversed.

"Jonathan and Ponyboy are in the kitchen," Maureen explained, but didn't bother to join the men with Keith's wife as the older version of the kleptomaniac Keith "Two-Bit" Matthews wandered into the kitchen. Upon seeing the two he grinned and waved, not spouting off some wisecrack like he would have if he had been younger.

"So..."

Ponyboy was tempted to run his head through the wall or some other violent action at the awkward air that settled over them again. He wondered why everything was so tense, so hard to break, and yet he was afraid to ask. "... have you talked to Steve recently?" His own question surprised him, considering he and Steve Randal had never gotten along very well, even after Sodapop's death (which, he supposed, was no longer in history).

Both Two-Bit and Johnny sucked in a breath at the same time and exchanged glances. It would have been comical had it not been for the fact that the news Ponyboy was dreading would come soon after this shared look. "...what?"

"Pony, you were _there_," Johnny explained, tapping his fingers on the coffee mug and looking into the liquid. "I thought we weren't going to discuss it anymore, anyway..."

Two-Bit nodded in agreement, taking a seat where Maureen had been moments before and took a drink of the coffee, making a face as he did so. There was no need to explain to the man that the coffee wasn't his because from the way he pushed the mug away it was obvious that he already knew. "This is some shitty coffee," he mumbled, laughing weakly in an attempt to get away from the subject of Steve's death. "Mo needs a guide on how t'make this stuff _better_."

The look that the thirty-eight year old received from Johnny was one that clearly said that this wasn't a time to be joking around. Almost instantly the nervous smile that had been on Two-Bit's face vanished and he looked more concerned now. "Pone, you went to see how Steve was... after, you know... Soda..." He said this slowly, tentatively and Ponyboy felt his face lose colour. Had Sodapop Curtis actually died _regardless_ of what he had done with the candles?

"And..." Two-Bit trailed off, leaving Ponyboy to look imploringly at Johnny. What had happened, what had he seen Steve do that had resulted in the death of his brother's best friend? Questions swirled inside his head like an angry bunch of bees that refused to stop until he got every single one of them answered. Unfortunately for him, more than half those questions were only able to be answered by the woman he had bought the candles from, and he wasn't sure where to find her anymore.

"He electrocuted himself," Johnny stated bluntly. "Dropped the toaster in the bathtub when it was plugged in... you even _called_ us after the ambulance had come, Pone. And you made me call Soda because you didn't want to have to break it to him—"

Ponyboy's mind was reeling from the information that he had just received, but confusion was the first emotion that actually hit him. "Wait—Soda's _alive_?" His friends looked at each other again, concern on both their faces.

"Are you feeling okay?" Two-Bit asked. "Maybe you should lie down..."

"I should get going anyway," Johnny mumbled as he stood up from the table. "Hazel has a recital and I can't miss it—"

"What happened to Soda?" The urgency in Ponyboy's voice made the two stop and share another look. Ponyboy felt like a child as the jealousy filled him. Everyone was in on this little secret but him, and they weren't even bothering to tell. It was _his _brother for God's sake; it wasn't as if it was going to be of any importance to anyone outside the family and their friends.

When it seemed like a silent agreement had been reached, Johnny sat back down at the table (although his eyes still flitted over to the clock every few seconds) and Two-Bit stood awkwardly for a few more seconds before sitting back down. "It was just a car accident, Ponyboy. The doctors did everything they could but he wasn't gonna come out of it any time soon." He took a deep breath and Ponyboy noticed for the first time that his hair was beginning to gray, noticed the wrinkles on the face of his friend. Two-Bit looked older than Ponyboy would have liked to see and that frightened him; reminded him of their mortality and just how _little_ they mattered on earth in their short time inhabiting the planet.

Two-Bit took another sip of Maureen's coffee regardless of the taste and the fact that it wasn't his, and sighed. "They put him in a nursing home a few years ago. You and Darry both agreed that with the way his mind is... he can't be living by himself."

Almost as if a switch had been pulled, Ponyboy's head was filled with a memory that shouldn't have been in his head. It wasn't his; he wasn't sure where it _came_ from. He saw himself answering the phone, his expression changing from one of calm to one of horror. The receiver slipped from his hand and landed on the floor as he grabbed his coat and rushed out the door. It seemed like seconds later that he was in a horribly-decorated room, flowers in a vase by the bed of his brother, who was laying in bed with... a picture book. His smile was the same as it had always been but his eyes were vacant. They lacked the spark that Ponyboy remembered so well and as he watched, his past-self wiped a bit of drool that came from the corner of his older brother's mouth.

He was cruelly ripped from his thoughts by Johnny's apologizing but he "really had to go" and asked Ponyboy again if he was feeling okay before he whisked his daughter out the door. They could be seen running to the car, Hazel looking mournfully back at the house as she got into the passenger seat and told her father something that nobody inside could hear. In response, Johnny shook his head and told her something that made her eyes widen and she slammed the door.

In a matter of minutes Two-Bit and Elizabeth had left the house and although it was roughly two hours later, it seemed like seconds when Ponyboy found himself walking upstairs and into his bedroom, taking a seat next to Maureen who looked rather shocked. "Two nights in a row? Are you feeling alright?" It was meant to be a joke, but Ponyboy didn't smile.

"Mo... did we go to Steve's funeral?"

She looked taken aback, but nodded. "Yeah... yeah we did."

"Did Soda?"

"Well of course he did but—"

"Did he understand what was going on?"

Maureen planted a light kiss on Ponyboy's lips, looking upset as she did so. "No, babe."

As she turned off the light Pony remained sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at his hands despite the fact that the darkness had swallowed them.

"Oh..."

_Living on Borrowed Time_

Ponyboy was rummaging around the kitchen looking for the candles. If he found them, he could save Steve and he could save Sodapop. He found one candle, the multi-coloured one burning brightly in Iris' room. The next made his heart plummet. The ivory one was unlit, sitting in one of the drawers in the kitchen. After that the rest were easier to find, although the silver one's flame looked as if it was about to go out, and assembled them once more on the kitchen table, a matchbook in hand.

If he lit the ivory one... which would be next to lose the flame? Who would be the one lying six feet underground in a coffin while the other six would attempt to go about their lives? His hand shook as he opened the book and took out a match, striking it and holding it to the wick of the ivory candle. As the flames danced, casting eerie shadows in the kitchen, Ponyboy dropped the match in the sink and went to bed.

Whose life was going to fall to pieces this time?


	4. Chapter 4

_Update! Just so you know I actually have a working update schedule and this is usually updated after two of my AtU fics (seeing as this is the third fic I created in a certain amount of time) so when those two get updated expect an update on this. Basic disclaimer applies._

"... mmrgle." Ponyboy lifted his head from the kitchen table, feeling his glasses biting into his skin and after running a hand over his face to wipe away some stray saliva, he realized the wood had made an impression in his skin. Standing up, he winced at the pain in his back and head. Turning back to the table to see if the candle was still there, he reeled back with horror.

Bottles. Bottles everywhere, all that brown-tinted colour and they littered the table with the odd can thrown in there. All of them were completely empty and as he inspected his appearance in the reflection on the grandfather clock he found he sported a rather impressive beer-belly.

"Mo?" His voice echoed in the house and nobody responded. _What the hell is going on?_ The words repeated themselves, a mantra that brought panic instead of relief as he raced through the house, looking through the rooms to find them all very messy and empty. The room he shared with Maureen was a complete wreck, with drawers falling out of the dresser and the mattress tilted off to the left side of the bed. "Iris? ... Audrey?"

Nothing. Silence. He even whistled for Shep and the dog didn't come bounding up the stairs, practically tripping over his ears. Feeling not only frustrated but scared as well, he wandered back down to the kitchen and found a note hastily done in Maureen's usually neat hand.

_Ponyboy-_

_Can't take it. Won't raise Iris and Audrey in same environment as someone who can't move on. So sorry. Get help and we'll talk._

_-Maureen_

Lying underneath the note was an item that brought bile rising to his throat. Beer he had never drank deposited itself upon the tiles that covered the kitchen floor as he gazed in horror at the thing he remembered giving her so clearly. For a moment he just stared at the object, going over its every curve and angle with mounting sorrow and confusion.

Gold. Diamond-set... one diamond on top. He remembered presenting it to her in their shared apartment to avoid any crowd proposals. He remembered her refusal on the grounds that they barely knew each other and then he had proposed to her in the same place a year later, when they were both out of college, and she had accepted.

She had given him back the wedding ring. Ponyboy felt the lump in his throat build, and the uncomfortable prickle of tears. He had no idea what he had done, what had made him _become_ this sort of person that drove his wife and children out of the house, but he needed to find out. It had something to do with the candles, and he could fix it.

He moved through his own vomit, not caring that the bottoms of his feet became covered in the bile, and stumbled to the phone that hung on the wall. Picking it up he hastily dialed the number he knew to be Johnny's house (he had no idea how that number had surfaced), and waited.

One ring. Two Rings. _Three and I'll call Darry... I know that number..._

"Yeah?" It was Hazel. If her voice hadn't been distinctly feminine her phone etiquette would have given it away within seconds.

"'S your dad home?"

There was a pause and then a sort of rustling followed by the voice of his friend. "This is Jonathan Cade."

"Johnny!"

"... who is this?" Suspicion. Ponyboy felt hurt that someone he had been so close to didn't seem to know who it was.

"It's Ponyboy."

Silence and then Johnny sucked in his breath. "Ponyboy. Right." His tone was clipped, stern, he was angry about something and Ponyboy knew that anger was somehow directed at him. "I thought I told you not to call here anymore."

"... what?" Disbelief.

There was muttering on the other end. Johnny wasn't speaking into the receiver and Ponyboy had no idea what was going on. After a few more minutes he heard another voice, higher and he felt his heart break.

"Izzat Maureen?!" His words were still slurred. That beer he had no memory of consuming; the same beer that had brought on the vomit he had stepped in to make it to the phone.

"Ponyboy, you're not supposed to call here anymore. I told you. If Maureen had to come back one more t—"

"She's gone t'yer house before?!"

Johnny sighed. "Are you _drunk_?"

A raised voice on the other end. Maureen. Ponyboy got the feeling that he would soon be seeing his more recently-consumed items either on his feet again, or on the wall and floor. "Nonono I'm... 'm just..."

"Just _what_?"

"... hungover, I guess."

Another sigh and Johnny lowered his voice. "Ponyboy. Maureen is really afraid you're gonna end up hurting someone; she came over here last night at _two in the morning_ because you were waving one of the kitchen knives around in your bedroom. I know Darry's gone but you—"

This time Ponyboy _did_ vomit and he heard noises of disgust from Johnny's side over his own retching. Putting a shaking hand to the wall he leaned lightly against it, pressed his forehead against the wallpaper that had the little diamonds on it. The one he and Maureen had picked out when they had first moved in. "D-Darry's _gone_?" He spluttered into the phone.

"Yeah, Pone. He's been dead three years."

"J-Johnny I c-can—"

"Get your act together, Pony. Maureen isn't going to come back until you fix—"

"JOH—"

"I'm gonna hang up now."

"_JOHNNY THIS IS IMPORTANT!_"

A dial tone on the other end that sent his mind reeling, and he became aware of more vomit that coated his jeans and dripped off his chin and onto his shirt. He didn't understand... he couldn't understand why Johnny had turned against him.

Ponyboy's hands were shaking so badly that it was almost impossible to dial the number for Steve's house. After a few rings there came a pleasant female voice on the other end.

"_We're sorry, but your call has been blocked_._"_

Dallas.

"_We're sorry, but your call has been blocked."_

Two-Bit.

"_We're sorry, but your call has been blocked_._"_

Soda's number... he didn't know Soda's number. The receiver remained next to his ear as he took a deep breath and started to dial Johnny's number again.

One ring. Two rings—

"Cade residence."

Johnny. He almost cried with relief. "Johnny, listen I need—"

"Ponyboy. Stop. Calling." His tone was demanding.

"No, no Johnny I-I fucked up..."

"Good've you to finally notice."

"Johnny _please_, I tried to save you, Soda and Dally but Steve died and—"

"Put down the phone, Pony." Johnny wasn't buying it. He wasn't taking any of it in and Ponyboy wanted to reach through the phone and shake his friend until he understood what was going on.

"JOHNNY, _please_ listen! 'M messing with _time_ here!"

Another dial tone.


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm going to be leaving in a week and I'll be gone for two without any internet connection so I wanted to get this fic finished before I left.  
I don't own anything you recognize as being S.E. Hinton's.  
Also... 2, 182 words... I think that's a new record here. XD_

The dial tone continued to go on as Ponyboy clutched the receiver to him as if it was his lifeline, the one thing keeping him together. He breathed in through his mouth, not trusting his stomach to handle to odors coming from himself and the room he resided in. His eyes were oddly blank, the only thing giving away his feelings were the tears slowly gathering within them.

He remained like that, just holding the receiver, before standing up and stumbling upstairs. A shower. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, then he'd find go fix everything. If everything was fixed, there wouldn't be any more of this stupid time business, and he would have to deal with his friends and brother being dead. It wasn't the most ideal but Ponyboy's gut clenched every time he thought of what he was doing to the _real_ present with these candles.

Ponyboy took a shower, making sure to wash his hair (and, much to his disappointment noticed he was _still_ going bald) and spent a good couple minutes scrubbing madly at his skin with a bar of soap. After stepping out of the shower and pulling on a rather nice-looking shirt that he found under one of the upturned drawers, he searched through his closet, at last settling on a pair of black pants. He was, to say the least, pleased with the final result. He still had that beer belly but for the most part he looked respectable.

Taking another look back into the room he spotted something that made his throat go dry and his eyes widen. That stupid ivory candle, the one that hadn't been lit when he had to go searching for them the first time, sat burning brightly on the dresser. Snatching it he went on a quick search of the house, grabbing the multi-coloured one from the laundry room and snatching the brown off the back porch and after he had collected all of them (the sea green was the only not burning, and Ponyboy recognized it as Darry's) he ran out to the car which, despite the change in the owner, was not any different from what it had been, and sped away from his home.

The ride to Johnny's house (he wondered how he could know Johnny's phone number and address but not his own brother's) seemed to take hours, the radio station set to something that Iris probably enjoyed but that he tended to pull faces at. It was loud, nothing like the music _he_ had grown up with, but it barely made a difference to him if he was listening to Michael Jackson or the Grateful Dead at the moment because his _family_ was what he needed to be thinking about.

At long last he reached a house, a one-story sort of place that looked as if it was probably owned by someone middle class, but the yard was what surprised him. It looked nice, there were flowers... the whole _place_ looked well-kept even though, from his understanding, Johnny had never married more than once (which was how he had ended up with Hazel).

He sat in the car for a moment, just staring at the house before him, and then took a deep breath. Candles in hand he moved slowly to the door and after freeing his hand he knocked three times upon the door. After a moment of waiting, Hazel opened the door and stared up at Ponyboy with eyes so like her father's minus the suspicion and a lighter shade of brown instead of the black that Ponyboy was so used to.

"Yeah?"

Ponyboy's mouth twisted at this, a sort of smile-grimace that made Hazel raise her eyebrows. "I'm—"

"You're looking for Jonathan," she said, and the door closed in his face. Cries of '_JONATHAN, SOMEONE'S AT THE DOOR_' met his ears, however faint they were by that time, and within moments the door opened again to reveal none other than Jonathan Cade, staring at him with mild curiosity but mostly surprise.

"Ponyboy." It was as if he had nothing more to say to his friend, no question about the candles and he leaned against the doorframe, a very strange thing to do considering it was more of a teenage reaction than Ponyboy would have expected from someone two years older than himself. "What're you doing here?"

He took a deep breath, twirling the wick of the sea green candle and took a deep breath. "Johnny," his voice broke and he cleared his throat, noticing a flicker of sympathy in Johnny's eyes at this sound, "I-I got cleaned up, it's all okay now..."

But Johnny was shaking his head. "You can't do this again. You keep telling Mo you'll be okay but _every single time_ she ends up back here."

"Why can't she go stay with Dallas or-or Soda—"

"Pony, where've you been? She couldn't stay with Soda, nobody knows where he _is_. Dallas'd never be able to take care of her, you know why he can't..."

Memories slipped into his head again, memories he didn't want or need and that made him sway for a minute. He remembered the funeral, how he had sat there staring stonily at the coffin as his brother attempted to say a few words, voice choked and tears rolling down his cheeks. The funeral was small, only a few work and high school friends plus the old members of the 'gang'. He remembered how afterward he attempted to say something but found his vocal chords wouldn't cooperated and he had run out.

Then later how he had appeared at Soda's house, drunk, got into a fight and Soda had left.

He remembered seeing Dallas later in a bar somewhere, strung out on some sort of drug with his blonde hair messy, parts of it was stuck together with blood. Ponyboy remembered how later Dallas' wife at the time (someone who looked a lot like Sylvia, blonde haired with big dark eyes. She was more timid than Sylvia, though, and wasn't able to stand up to him) had had a fight with him, always ending in violence. She had called him up and Ponyboy, having been too drunk at the time, was unable to take him to rehab. Instead it was Maureen who drove the unconscious man to a nearby clinic and had dropped him off.

Since then Dallas had been avoiding everyone, convinced they were what was screwing up his mind. The woman (_Tammy_) had left town shortly after but still sent Ponyboy and Maureen Christmas cards.

"Right." His voice was hoarse, and Johnny sighed, moving aside and motioning for him to come in. He stepped into the house, raising an eyebrow again at how clean it looked.

There was laughter coming from the living room, and he caught a glimpse of Hazel and Audrey playing with some of Hazel's toys before Johnny led him into the kitchen where Maureen stood. She turned around and the smile slipped off her face, replaced with a hard frown.

"Ponyboy."

He wanted so badly to just make everything better with a snap of his fingers, but there was no way that would actually happen. For a moment Maureen eyed the candles in her husband's arms and motioned to them. "Why d'you have those?"

"I-I..." He couldn't tell her why he had them and he settled instead on setting them carefully on the kitchen counter, throwing his arms around his wife and pressing his lips to hers, a quick kiss that she ended by pushing him away. Her eyes were sparkling slightly, tears being held back only by force.

"I don't want this to end the same way," she whispered, leaning against the counter and looking down at her hands. There was a small white line from where the wedding ring had sat, and Ponyboy fished through the pocket of his pants, presenting the ring to her and slipping it onto her finger.

"I'm better," Ponyboy mumbled, slightly embarrassed, "I _promise_ this time."

He could tell that she didn't want to believe him, and that she would rather smack him and go back to living in peace with Johnny and his family, but she gives him a small smile, sighs, and shakes her head. "Fine, Ponyboy. We'll try it. One more time."

Ecstatic was probably a better word than "happy" to describe the feelings that swept through him at that moment and he gave her another kiss before Johnny came back into the kitchen, a small smile playing on his lips and looking odd upon a face that Ponyboy had never usually associated with smiles.

"Better?" He asks, not looking at them as he gets two mugs down from the cupboard and then pouring some coffee, handing one mug to Ponyboy and giving another to Maureen before grabbing another cup for himself. "Pony, can I talk t'you?"

Ponyboy, sensing something was going to have to be explained as far as the candles and his little outburst about time went, grabbed the seven candles sitting on the counter and followed Johnny into the dining room, which was separated from the living room and kitchen by doors. Closing them, Johnny motioned to the kitchen table and Ponyboy obediently sat down.

"What's it you said about time?"

"Which part?

"The messing with it... and what's the candles for? I pegged you for a flowers sort of guy," Johnny said this with that odd smile that was so rare but almost everyone in their little 'gang' had seen it at one point or another.

With a shake of his head Ponyboy lifted the unlit candle and held it out to Johnny who took it tentatively and sniffed it, pulling back with a frown. "It smells like... books... sort of..."

Taking it back from him Ponyboy handed him the multi-coloured one to which Johnny confessed he couldn't smell anything.

"Look, d'you think there's anything weird going on?"

"Not really... well... except you're here..." His voice had that hard edge to it again, like it had when Ponyboy had first called him. Dark eyes bored into his as Johnny attempted to understand what was going on.

"Every time I light one of these," Ponyboy mumbled, twisting the wick of the candle again, "someone new dies. You... _you're_ not even supposed to be here. You _died_."

For a moment Johnny looked stricken, and then nodded slowly. "I don't understand, though. If I'm s'posed to be dead then why aren't I?"

This prompted Ponyboy to tell him the whole story, starting from after Dallas' death to after Maureen had lit the first candle. By the end of it Johnny was looking incredibly skeptical and crossed his arms, regarding his friend with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"You sure you're not drunk?"

"Positive," Ponyboy said, sounding more desperate than he meant to. "One person's always dead, Johnny... I dunno what to do... and now," he stopped, pushed up his glasses and wiped his eyes, then sighed. "Now Darry's dead and... I want everything back to normal."

Johnny frowned, biting his bottom lip and looking down at the table. "Pone," he sounded a bit upset by this, and Ponyboy noticed that his friend's voice wasn't much lower than it had been when they were teenagers, "that means Dally, Soda 'n I'll be dead, won't it?"

"Yeah," Ponyboy replied slowly, setting the sea green candle down again. "But... but I don't like that happens when these things're lit. I don't like _having_ 'em."

There was a long silence after that, wherein Johnny picked up each candle and sniffed them, sometimes smiling and other times frowning until he was holding the multi-coloured one again and blew lightly upon the flame. It flickered but didn't go out, instead got a bit brighter and Johnny looked pained before the look faded.

Setting it back amongst the others, Johnny tapped his fingers nervously upon the table and then ran a hand through his hair. "Do it, Pony," he said at last, looking his friend in the eye.

_I kind of like the idea of Hazel calling her father by his first name. I tried it with the words "dad" "daddy" and "papa" but none of them seemed to fit Johnny. So I pulled a To Kill a Mockingbird and basically any children Mr. Cade ever has will call him "Jonathan" because that seems to fit him, I think._


	6. Chapter 6

_I've been back for a while but someone reported one of my fanfics, I wasn't allowed to update... the whole entire thing pissed me off since I was proud of that fic but it doesn't matter since I've lost the documents for it, anyway._

_Apologies for not updating sooner, this fic is almost over (and I have another one in mind). That being said, nothing you know belongs to me._

"So what d'you do now?" Johnny watched Ponyboy curiously as Ponyboy held the unlit candle in his hand, twisting the wick and looking generally nervous.

"Well... we _light_ it."

"And then I'll be dead."

"... sort of." Ponyboy chanced a glance in Johnny's direction and found his friend staring into space thoughtfully. At long last he seemed to come back to reality and gave Pony a small smile.

"Well c'mon, _light it!_"

He hardly believed the excitement in his friend's voice was real but none the less Ponyboy took a deep breath and lit the candle. At first nothing happened and Johnny looked disappointed until something seemed to shake the earth and both were thrown back. When Ponyboy opened his eyes, he was no longer at the Cade residence.

"DADDY," Audrey yelled, shaking her father's shoulder and looking for all the world like something had just blown up. Horrified at what might have happened _now_ he threw himself out of bed and barreled down the stairs (not noticing that he lost the weight he had gained in the other reality) stopping in the kitchen to find nothing on fire, no one dying and nothing out of the ordinary except perhaps Iris was sitting at the table already.

Ponyboy let out a relieved sigh and took a seat at the table, not minding that he was still wearing his pajamas and accepting the plate of pancakes Maureen handed him then proceeding to dig in. So nothing was wrong in this reality. Maybe things were back to normal. He felt a pang of guilt, thinking of the fact that his brother and his two friends would no longer be around, which meant their children (the ones he wasn't aware of, in Soda and Dallas' cases) didn't even exist anymore. He had killed them.

"... Pony?"

He looked up at Maureen, catching her worried gaze and realizing he had the syrup bottle in his hand and was proceeding to empty the bottle completely over his breakfast. Giving her what he hoped was a reassuring grin he set the syrup back on the table and continued with the afore-mentioned digging in.

Iris frowned at her father, snatching what was left of the syrup before Audrey could get it which issued a loud wail from the younger girl as she smacked her older sister as hard as she could across the back.

"Watch it you little _brat_," Iris hissed as she poured the rest of the syrup over her pancakes. When Audrey smacked her again Iris turned to Maureen, scowling and attempting to ignore her sister's cries of "_mommy she took all the syrup"._

"You're not just gonna let her _do_ that, right mom? I mean... you'll send her up to her room or—"

"Audrey Nicole Curtis," Maureen said in her best _'I'm your mother and therefore and authority figure'_ voice, "don't hit your sister."

The smug look that had taken over Iris' usually pretty features vanished immediately, replaced with an even more unattractive scowl as she turned her anger upon her mother. "_MOM_. She just HIT ME—"

"Iris," Ponyboy warned, shooting her a glance that said _give it a rest_. Despite this argument he felt more relieved than ever. If his daughters were fighting over something as trivial as syrup things _had_ to be back to normal... which meant his deadline was... the thought refused to end itself and he shot out of his chair, hurriedly thanking Maureen for the breakfast as he made his way back upstairs and to his office.

Sitting in the chair made him feel so strange after all this time. It wasn't as if years had passed since he had sat at his desk trying to force his brain to come up with words that created semi-intelligent sentences, but it felt like a few months had passed at least. He stared at the words he had written before, finding his mind hitting the same block it had in the beginning and letting his head drop onto his desk to rest there for a moment before bringing it back up only to find that his brain still hadn't conjured up anything new since he had let his head drop moments before.

Still, his deadline was growing ever closer and he began to write, not caring if anything made sense; the editors could take care of that when he turned in the article. After all, that's what they were there for, wasn't it? They _edited_ and made something sound polished, fresh, and_ intelligent_ for human beings who actually managed to read the paper on a weekly basis.

Not that his articles were never intelligent but he always found _something_ changed in them, something that took away from his paper whether it was the way he worded a sentence or perhaps the fact that he had added a description that the editors deemed unneeded for the article to still be readable.

"Everyone's a critic," he mumbled as he pressed the pencil harder to the paper, delighting in the little black dot it created. After wiping away the excess graphite he continued his mindless writing, wishing for all the world that someone could have known about the amazing adventure he had just been on. Someone besides Johnny, that is.

And then suddenly his mind seemed to unlock a secret storage of ideas. They came pouring out, startling him but he put his pencil to the paper and began to scribble furiously, his handwriting getting smaller and sloppier as he went along. First he'd hand write it, then he'd type it, then he'd send it off. It was always the same process...

"Ponyboy?"

Maureen's voice snapped him out of his thoughts for the second time that morning and he turned to look at her, glad to not be equipped with a bottle of syrup. He was startled by her stricken expression and the tears that pooled in her eyes. One spilt over and rolled down her cheek, dripping off her chin and burying itself in the carpet.

His heart plummeted.

"Mo?"

She didn't look at him for a moment, worrying the hem of her shirt and sniffling every once in a while. When at last she looked at him her eyes were red and her face was wet. "Th-That was S-Soda... he s-said Keith an-and Elizabeth... they w-were in an accident and..."

But Ponyboy already knew what was coming. Keith was dead in an accident with his wife and _he_ had killed them like he killed Darry and Steve. He felt sick. Worse than sick, and he just sat there as Maureen attempted to hold in her shuddering sobs.

"When's the funeral?" His own voice was unrecognizable to him, hoarse and emotionless. He wanted to grab at something and break it, to tear it and ruin it to the point where it was unrecognizable. Keith was dead. It was his fault.

"N-Next wuh-week," she whispered before leaving the room, shoulders still shaking and still sniffling every once in a while. The house was quiet. Somewhere down the hall Ponyboy could hear Iris talking into her telephone, mumbling things that sounded a bit strangled. Had she met Keith before? Actually gotten to know him?

_Iris' fourth birthday party and her friends were there as well as some of the old "gang" minus Darry for most of it because he had his job to do. It was back when Iris loved her name, when she wasn't going through one of her little "phases" and when she had been more or less content with what was going on in her life._

_Keith wandered into the back yard, grinning at his daughter and laughing as she stared at him for a few seconds then screeched "UNCLE KEEF" and threw herself at him. They had had a good relationship considering their similar sense of humor. When Iris used to _have_ a sense of humor, anyway._

How could he have forgotten something like that? Ponyboy let his head drop into his hands and he saw one drop of water smudge the graphite of his article. Then another, and a third, until his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

_Living On Borrowed Time_

The environment at Keith's funeral was strained. His friends and family stood around, stony-faced and trying to make conversation but failing at it. At the front of the room was a coffin, closed to prevent the viewing of the corpse beneath.

_A closed coffin,_ Ponyboy thought, feeling his stomach twist itself into knots, _oh Jesus..._ Keith's little sister, now looking like she was in her mid to late twenties, clutching at the arm of someone who appeared to be her boyfriend or possibly fiancé, judging by the ring on her hand. Perhaps even her husband?

She saw him but neither one attempted to smile in greeting to the other. They couldn't smile; not when Keith was dead. Ponyboy felt a bit of his resolve break at the memories that were continually pouring into his brain, plaguing his thoughts.

He hadn't slept well in a long time.

Some movement caught his eye as Darry slowly made his way into the room, looking unusually upset for how much he had griped about Keith when he was still alive. Then again, neither Keith nor Darry really had any "best friend". Neither had Dally, for that matter, unless you counted Johnny who was more like a little brother but... Keith and Darry had been friends in the beginning, hadn't they?

"_This' my friend Keith," Darry said, motioning to the rusty-haired youth beside him who gave Mrs. Curtis a big grin._

"_Howdy Darry's mom!"_

Of course.

Keith had been Darry's good friend at one time.

He stayed around for a bit longer, looking around at the candles in the church and thinking _Two-Bit wouldn't have wanted this it's too serious_. Eventually Jess, Keith's sister, began to sob, the sound making the sadness almost a tangible thing. She clung to the man, sobbing loudly into his shoulder and he patted her on the back, trying to console her.

Tears began to fill his eyes and he blinked hurriedly, looking anywhere except where people happened to be milling about. He couldn't stay here, not when it was _his fault_ in the first place that Keith was dead and he didn't even have the _candles_.

Ignoring Maureen's questions he hurried out of the church, walking out into the cold rain that was hardly appropriate for remembering someone as vibrant as Keith Matthews. He stopped when he had rounded a corner and sat down heavily on a bench, rain making everything hard to see through his glasses and the water mingling with the tears that fell from his eyes.

"You are not _happy_, Ponyboy Curtis?"

It was the woman from the candle stand, an umbrella shielding her from the rain. She looked no older than when he had first seen her, and he tried to glare at her, to force some of his anger at the person that had caused the entire thing, but he couldn't.

"You should not have played with time," she said quietly, staring at him with eyes much older than she appeared to be. "It is not always kind in return."

"I... I d-don't know what t'do," he mumbled, sniffling and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his best jacket.

"There is only one more road you must take," the woman murmured, lifting his chin so she could look at him. Like his mother did when he was younger. "I am terribly sorry."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Ponyboy staring up at absolutely nothing and hearing the voices of his friends and family as they approached him.

"You okay, Pone?" Darry asked, his own voice sounding choked as he rubbed his younger brother on the back.

"Fine," he replied quietly, catching Johnny's questioning look and shaking his head in response before getting up. "I just... have t'do something..."

Everyone was oddly silent then, the only sound being the cars and the rain hitting the sidewalk in big drops. Then it seemed almost simultaneous. A car sped by, splashing the six with water and Johnny exclaimed "you selfish _bastard_!"

"What d'you want me t'do Johnny? Huh? I'm not gonna let... let Keith die because of me!"

"You're being a _martyr_, that's what you're doing," Johnny yelled, taking a step toward him. "Stop playing around! You said you'd fix things, why aren't things fixed yet?!"

"What the fuck—" Dallas began, looking at the two with complete confusion on his face.

"He's fucking with _time_!"

"... maybe you should go back inside, Johnny..."

"I'm being _serious_," Johnny said bitterly, shrugging off Soda's hand as the middle Curtis placed it on his shoulder. Everyone had their eyes on Ponyboy now, who shook his head.

"Just an idea for a book I'm writing," he mumbled, not sure if he ever wanted to reveal what he had done to anyone but Johnny, who would probably take it the best out of all of them (and if this was the best reaction, he didn't want to see the others). "Y'know... concept of our life being light and stuff."

Steve let out a nervous laugh and patted Johnny on the shoulder. "Wow... almost had us convinced there, kid... uh... Jonathan."

_Living On Borrowed Time_

That night Ponyboy made dinner for his wife and children, and all the while his heart pounded furiously in his chest. Ravioli, bread and salad. He talked with Audrey and Iris and neither daughter tried to bicker, both sensing something was about to change. They sat down and watched a movie together, plotless and hardly one that grownups would enjoy, but he enjoyed every minute of it.

"Dad?" Iris peered up at her father as she sat in bed and he stood over her, having just said goodnight.

"Hm?"

"... everything's gonna be okay, right?" Her question was so innocent compared to the tough image she had thrown up for quite some time now.

Ponyboy gave his oldest daughter a reassuring smile. "Yeah, Iris."

She didn't object to the use of her real name as he left her room and closed the door behind him. Audrey was already asleep by the time he made it to her room and he pressed his lips to her forehead, turning out the night light as he left and headed for his bedroom.

That night he made love to Maureen, whispering his love for her in her ear, pressing his lips to lips, her eyes, her nose... anywhere he was able. He kissed away her tears and held her when she cried over the death of Keith, his own heart breaking. When she was sleeping in his arms he slipped out of bed and padded downstairs.

It was as if they were waiting for him, lined up on the kitchen table and glowing brightly all except one but even that seemed vibrant. Alive. It pulsed in his hand as he inspected it.

This was it.

Darry looked up from the paper, and Barbara (who had stayed home with the baby) poked her head out of the kitchen, asking him if he had felt something. The eldest Curtis was unable to answer but his eyes widened in horror and that was all the answer she needed.

Steve let the beer slip from his hand, the alcohol splashing all over a particularly tough-looking patron of the bar. He barely felt the punch to his jaw.

Dallas' sharp intake of breath was in no way related to the women he happened to be sleeping with. She looked like Sylvia... every girl did now, and she looked at him with that predatory smile, convinced it was her that had brought this gasp. It was fear, though, for the first time in many years that made him start so violently.

Soda sat straight up in bed, causing Winifred to sit up next to him, rubbing her eyes and asking if everything was alright. It wasn't late, but he hadn't been feeling well after the funeral and had gone to sleep early. He felt tears in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, and he couldn't tell his wife what was wrong.

After tucking Hazel in Johnny sat in his bedroom, looking out at the city he had never really left, and he dropped his head into his hands.

As all this happened, Ponyboy lit the candle.


	7. Chapter 7

"Give the kid a bath, David."

They shoved Ponyboy's head in the fountain, holding him as they thrashed while two others approached Johnny, holding him back as he fought to get to his friend. One punch to the gut, two, three... he stopped struggling around four and went limp, breathing heavily and letting out a strangled sob every few seconds, his eyes remained fixed on what little of his friend he could see still sticking out of the fountain.

Gradually Ponyboy stopped moving. His arms stopped flailing and Randy stepped back, staring at Bob as realization flooded onto both their faces.

"We didn't mean... you... Bob you fucking_ killed him,_" Randy exclaimed, his voice high pitched and scared. Johnny's head snapped in the direction of the soc that had been with Cherry earlier that night.

"Shit," Bob hissed, looking terrified and angry. At himself? Johnny couldn't tell.

"We gotta get outta here," one of the socs holding back Johnny said and let him go as he started for the car, the other following suit and leaving Johnny standing there, slumped, his eyes still fixed on his friend.

Then, he moved so slowly there almost seemed to be a force holding him back, he went to the fountain, dragging Ponyboy out of the cold water with trembling hands. His breathing hitched as he caught sight of the pale face, the blue tinge his lips had.

An engine started, and someone had their hand on his shoulder. When he turned, Randy was staring at Ponyboy looking... upset? That confused him. Socs shouldn't feel sad about someone they hated. They didn't _feel_.

"S-Sorry, kid," he mumbled, hurrying toward the car and leaving Johnny alone by the fountain, his forehead resting on his friend's chest.

His friend's _still_ chest.

_It's over, guys, and I appreciate the reviews that've kept me going all this time. True, it was a short fic, but I never meant for it to be novel-length by any means. My next fic will come out sometime soon when I get a handle on my other stories and everything._

_I'd really like to say that this is by far my favourite story on ff I've written and I hope you all enjoyed it. I'm also proud to say that this is about my third finished multi-chapter Outsiders fic and I'm hoping to start up on JRC again in the future when I have more time._

_Thank you again for reading and reviewing, I appreciate it._


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